


[The Lost Journal Entries of Adriano Juan Santillian]

by dragonesskunoichi



Category: Villainous (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Future Character Death, Homophobia, M/M, Nightmares, OCs - Freeform, Origin Story, Past human!Black Hat, Victorian era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-11-08 20:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11088981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonesskunoichi/pseuds/dragonesskunoichi
Summary: Black Hat was once human. He was Adriano Juan Santillian; and this is his story.





	1. May 15th, 1889.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story for Villainous; basically my version of the origins of Black Hat. I have decided to name him Adriano Juan Santillian, meaning the dark Saint Juan. This story is written in format of journal entries from Adriano's point of view. Takes place in the Victorian Era, in the 1889. 
> 
> I respect constructive critics and love to hear your comments! 
> 
> Follow my tumblr; my url is dragonesskunoichi. Message me anytime.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Hat was once human. He was Adriano Juan Santillian; and this is his story.
> 
> In which the darkness lurks inside his head.

# May 15th, 1889.

 

I remember everything, and I am afraid.

It was dark and it was merciless. I felt like I was blind as if my eyes had been gouged out. My cheeks were wet and my body was bathed in a cold sweat. I brought my fingers to my eye sockets; they were still there. I let out a shaky breath as I tried to calm the pounding of my heart against my chest. I had to get out. I had to get out. Run, my mind told me, but I knew it was hopeless.

It walked in my room, and time slowed down, pacing with its slow footsteps. I couldn't move. Fear resided deep within me as I staggered backwards, the floors creaking aloud like wails of tortured souls. Its hand reached out to me, sharp claws beckoning me to come to it.  _Run_ , my mind screamed at me, but where to? I was trapped. I could not escape for the shadows were shackles around my ankles, chaining me in place. It knew. It saw the fear that was in my eyes. It lets out a cackle of insane laughter, echoing around me.

It was then I saw a glimmer of light and I had wished I were back in the dark.

Razor sharp teeth were bared in a maniacal grin, the wrinkles of its mouth stretching so wide it could have easily ripped its own skin. Its eyes; one eye was pure white, but I knew they were looking right at me, sending shivers down my spine and prolonged an uneasy feeling inside of me, and the other eye; a pitch black, empty void as dark, fresh blood trailed down the socket like a flow of a stream. Its hands were on either side of it, long, animalistic claws touching the floor as it drags them slowly creating a screeching sound that inflicted pain to my ears. Its tall figure loomed over me, slithering tentacles on its back trashing around the room. Everything else of its physique was hardly discernible in the shadowy twilight of the room. Tears began to blur my vision and I shuffled backwards groggily in panic as it advanced with each slow, terrorizing movement. I needed to get away from it. I needed to get away from the monster.

I needed to get away from myself.

 _No, no, no,_  – I repeated to myself, as I forced myself to move further away. It laughed at me, tilting its head in mockery. “You cannot escape me, Adriano. You know this.” I shook my head and screamed, but nothing came out. “You cannot escape me,” it growled again, approaching me with heavy steps as the wooden floor beneath me rumbled. Its tongue hissed at me before licking its own lips in hunger. It was going to consume me, I realized. It wanted to consume me; both physically and mentally.

“You  _will_ be mine. You cannot hide from me; you cannot cage me inside your mind no longer. One day, I will take over. And I will consume you until you are nothing but a fleeting memory,” it hissed at me, a wide smirk on its face as I tremble at its feet in terror.

 _You will never take over this body;_  I coughed out,  _not now, not ever._

“You think,” it scowled deeply, a claw lashing at me, scratching my chest and tearing my shirt to shreds. Blood streaks trailed down my skin like a fountain, the smell burning my nose. “You – a weak, pathetic human – think you can defeat me? How foolish of you, Adriano. I have put up with your act for years. I have had it with your disgusting kindness. I have had enough of hiding. And now, it is time that  _I take over.”_

I violently shook my head.  _No_. It had to stay in my mind. It would endanger everyone. It would destroy and hurt others. I had controlled it and caged it in the deepest depths of my mind all these years. If I could control it once, I could control it again. I will not let this  _monster_ living inside me to be released. I will not let my past grief and anger rule over me. I am better than this. I will be strong.

But when it started transforming, I could not bring myself to look away even if the sight of it had me trembling harder than ever. I was frozen in shock and panic, and from one look I knew I had lost this battle.

“Remember, I am a part of you, Adriano. And I  _will take over.”_

Before me stood the exact replica of myself, a crazed look in its eyes and an insane grin on its hideous face. An evil cackle escaped its lips – a voice terrifyingly like my own – as it pounced at me, claws open and jaw widened in a monstrous growl.

I woke with a jolt in bed, my sheets tangled in disarray. My heartbeat was unnaturally loud and pounding with an adrenaline rush. My head was spinning as the nightmare repeated inside my head like a broken gramophone. I wanted to pacify myself with a glass of water, but I was left weak and trembling from the dream. The monster’s threat rang in my ears. Tears slid down my cheeks and fell on my lap, unable to keep them from stopping. I let them. I run a hand through the messy mop of black hair and hold back a sob.

Riddle me this. How can I call it a nightmare, if it doesn’t leave my presence when I awake?


	2. May 19th, 1889.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Hat was once human. He was Adriano Juan Santillian; and this is his story.
> 
> In which the demon within follows his every step, and temptation clouds his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter! I'm leaving on a vacation this week and I wanted to post this before the trip. Mentions of my OCs; Adriano's siblings. Benedicto, Evita, Lucinda, and Feliciano. 
> 
> This was very rushed so forgive me if there are any mistakes in grammar and writing. I will fix them later on.
> 
> Follow my tumblr; my url is dragonesskunoichi.

# May 19th, 1889.

The dreams were recurring and frightening to say the least. I have tried to put it behind me for the past four days, but every night I am tormented with the same repeating nightmare. I am not even sure if I could call it a nightmare anymore; for it haunts me in the daylight as much as it scares me in the dark of night.

I could hear it whispering things – horrible, horrible things – into my ear as the clock ticks into minutes and hours. I could feel its presence fleeting behind me with every step I took. I could see it lurking in the shadows; silent in observing my every act with a sly smile on its face. I am becoming more afraid of what has become the demon that lives within me. I have become paranoid; visible bags under my eyes and the crinkles of the permanent scowl I’ve been wearing. I am constantly tired nowadays, but I try my best to hide it. I do not need for others to worry about me. I do not want to endanger them anymore than I am doing now.

“Brother, are you alright?” Evita questioned me today, her usually bright smile replaced with a worried frown. She placed a delicate hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “You seem a bit pale. Are you sick?”

I looked up from the current hat I was working on, placing the needle down causing the thread to slip out of place. I sighed; dropping the ribbon I was working on and forced a small smile, hoping it was convincing enough to stop her worrying. “I am fine, Evita, do not worry for me.”

“How can I not, Adriano? I am your sister; it is my job to take care of you as you do for us,” she replied, taking the hat in my grasp to observe it herself. “This is very well done, brother. I am sure Lord Michaelis will be very pleased. In the meantime, you should rest.”

“Why must I rest? I still have many hats to tend to. I must finish them today –“

“There is always tomorrow, brother!” she huffed, irritated at my stubbornness to keep working on my top hats. “Now, get off this chair. Adriano, I’m serious – get off right now before I shove you off.”

Working had been a wonderful distraction from my fearful pondering over my recent nightmares. The amount of orders for brand new top hats has been ridiculous this week; if I ever bothered to pile up my notes it would have stacked so high. My fingers were numb and calloused from all the work, my work table a complete mess with all the silk and unfinished shells sprawled on the shelves. I must’ve looked like a madman with my uncombed hair and tired eyes as I sat hunched forward in my rickety stool. The work had my mind and body busy, allowing me to easily block out the paranoia and memories of the nightmare from bothering me too much. With a forceful shove from Evita, I reluctantly stood up and ran a hand through my untamed hair.

“If you insist, _hermana,_ I shall leave. Only for a while. And then I’m going to go straight back to work.”

Evita beamed at me with such a sweet smile, it made me smile a small yet true smile in return. I walked away and took my trench coat from the hanger near the door and an old top hat. It made me forget for a slight second that I have been haunted with fear and paranoia from the monster inside my head, taunting and threatening and whispering words of cruelty in my ears.

_Look at Evita. Look at her._

My eyes trailed over to my sister’s petite form, hunched on the stool I was previously sitting on, a small smile on her face as she hums a quiet lullaby. I recognized it as _El Muñeco Pin Pón,_ a sweet lullaby Mamá used to sing to us when we were young, and it brings back the twinge of pain in my heart as I watched her. Suddenly I felt a rush of anger and hatred bubbling inside of me as sharp memories of the fire and the disgusting man people called their _hero_ flashed before my eyes –

_You wouldn’t want them to take away the light in her eyes too, don’t you?_

It horrifies me now, how much its voice was so soothing, so gentle, and so believable. It scares me now, how much it had grown stronger and smarter, and how much it knew me. I must protect Evita. I must protect Lucinda and little Feliciano. They are what I have left of my family. It pains me to remember our parents and big brother Benedicto; in the fire, their smiling faces gone and replaced with screams of pain from the blazing heat of the fire, oh God, the fire that killed them, that hurt us all, and that damned _hero_ that took the light of hope away from us all.

_They deserve to die, Adriano. They don’t deserve the praises of the humans. They do not know the truth as you do. They must die._

Now I am aware of the danger and the temptations of evil that lies in my future, and I pray to God and everything else that exists in the heavens to assist me into the right path.


	3. May 22th, 1889.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black Hat was once human. He was Adriano Juan Santillian; and this is his story.
> 
> In which he writes of the series of unfortunate events in the past five years.

#  **May 22 th, 1889.**

It has been five years since the fire. There are times like earlier today, when I took a short stroll down the grim streets of London, did the memories slowly resurfaced and struck me with nostalgia and grief.

Smoke. Thick gray smoke billowing into the night sky. Devilish flames greedily engulf all that is in sight; sparing nothing. The blazing hot flames of hell consumed the manor with no mercy. The broken chandelier bathed in metallic red pierced through my father’s unmoving body; shards of glass spiking through his skin, my mother’s still form underneath the crumbled ceiling; her limp arm visible from the ruins as they trampled her to her death. Benedicto’s fallen form on the merciless ground; gunshots penetrated through his broad chest, a pool of blood sloshing beneath him.

My clothes were singed as I crouched over my crying sisters and brother, their wails torture to my ears. Tears blurred my eyes and I swallowed back multiple sobs of fear for I had to be strong for all that remains of my loved ones. My back was burnt from the heat and bloodied from the crippling ruins showering us like rain. I prayed to God for help, for a miracle to come down from the heavens and rescue us all. But instead, God sent me a fiend disguised as an angel to leave us combusted in the depths of the ocean of fire that night.

He was a man who called himself a hero; a demon carrying an angel’s halo.

It is so sickeningly hilarious how people call him their hero, for all I see is a liar with a thirst for glory, riches and power. What is the valor and goodness they speak of? How many lies have they been manipulated into believing this disgusting excuse of a man is a hero?

The man was dressed in white but his soul was pitching black. A gun in his grip as he stood from the fallen rooftop, a maniacal grin on his face as his unforgiving eyes looked down on me. He wore a mask over his lips yet I could hear his laughter as loud as thunder on a stormy nights. I could recall his taunts in my mind, calling us names so insulting I could not bear to hear them.

They took everything from me. The man in white shot my brother dead. He kept shooting when brother fell, pricking more bullets into his skin. Gunshots thundered into the night sky as the fire never ceased to dim. Their shadows lurked through the flames, towering over our frail forms. I barely managed to escape as the manor was falling apart; Feliciano cradled in one sore arm and the other tugging Lucinda and Evita into a run so fast it was like the devil himself was chasing us. But it felt like it. At that time, the fire was hell and the man was the devil and us the prey.

We hid in the slums for weeks, only making a trip to the city in ragged clothes to beg pathetically for bread and coins. The Santillian name had been tainted; rumors of hidden affairs, corrupted money, financial problems, murder, illegal trading breezed through the country like wildfire. Soon, the family company went bankrupt; the money was either stolen or spent carelessly by whoever remains left of the company.

Oh, it brings me great pain to recall such memories. I remember the cold nights we spent in the dumpsters huddled around the small fire in search for more warmth in clothes that barely covered our skins, burnt from the fire and stinking of garbage. It took me five years for us to leave the slums into a decent place that still barely fits us all. I had to beg, steal, borrow and barter to earn the money and the jobs that put us where we are right now; my small, tacky hat shop.

Look, my eyes are starting to blur and tears threaten to fall. The voice of the beast inside my head starts to rumble and fill my head with terrifying thoughts that would send any man straight to insanity; I should stop writing such _upsetting_ memories in order to provoke it less, but if I do not spill my thoughts out into these pages will I succumb deeper into my loss and grief.

The voice is telling me something. I can feel the anger within me bubbling up like boiling water, all the hatred clouding my thoughts I am unable to think straight now. I shall get myself a cup of tea to calm myself down before my hands starts shaking until I cannot grasp anything without breaking it.


End file.
